The evening shift at Soar Museum was not especially highly prized.

True, you were significantly less likely to fall foul of a Grackle Nuroon tantrum if you started work after he went home, but on the other hand, there was something about the atmosphere of the place after the sun went down that tested the temperaments of all but the most courageous . Too many long-dead bones. Too many unheard secrets. And far, far too many cursed artefacts.

And on the night of the second death, a furious storm was blowing a tempest across Soar, making those late-night workers even less happy about their lot in life.

The guard on gate duty was particularly unhappy about things, especially as the automatic Illume spell on the outer wall had failed, and he had been ordered to set himself up outside to keep an eye on any comings and goings. Lacking any Skills to protect himself from the storm, Porthern Barth - Level 11 - had swaddled himself in a borrowed Sou'wester and plonked himself down, with as much bad grace as he was capable, on a chair just outside the gatehouse.

It was just as one day ticked over into another when he was jerked back into consciousness by the sound of the Portal Stone just opposite the museum sparking into life. Porthern frowned, interested to see who in Soar would be coming through at this time of night and in this weather. When no one appeared, he reluctantly stood and made his way across the road to stand in front of it.

Minutes passed, and still there was no sign of whoever had activated the stone coming through. Porthern was aware there were all sorts of protocols for when such a thing happened, but for minimum wage, he could hardly have been expected to remember them off the top of his head. He was just about to return inside and seek counsel from his superiors when Martha Culloden appeared behind him.

The had obviously invested considerably in some 'quality of life' Skills, as there was a wide cone around her through which no wind or rain was being permitted to cross. Porthern surreptitiously tried to stand as close to her as he could whilst she addressed him.

"Ah," she said, catching sight of the large man but not being able to summon up his name, "you. I thought I heard the Portal Stone activate and came to investigate."

Even Porthern, lacking as he was in brains, smarts or any ability in deductive reasoning whatsoever, could smell bullshit when it was shovelled his way. He had only noticed the stone coming to life because he was sitting less than ten feet away from the thing when it bloomed into being. Even without the storm trying to blow the museum's doors off, there was no way this woman had heard anything on this side of the street from inside her office.

Seeing scepticism on the man's face, Culloden gathered her coat around her and made to pass through the summoned portal. "Well, if no one is coming through, I might as well make use of it to get off home." However, she had taken no more than a few steps forward when, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her, she turned, smiling at the guard.

"While I remember, I think the lock to the door of the canteen might be broken. I've cast a temporary You Shall Not Pass on it, but that will only hold until the morning. Be a dear and let Mr Levick know, will you?"

Porthen nodded, and for a moment, the two stood awkwardly facing each other before the realised the blasted woman expected him to go and get on the Sending Stone immediately. Seriously? It was the middle of the night, the whole museum was locked down, and she'd already secured the door by the sound of it. But, no. That wasn't enough. She wanted him to traipse back inside, wake up the famously grizzly and have him come and take a look.

Porthern gave a sarcastic salute - if she didn't know his name, she could hardly report him, could she? - and ambled back across the road and into the guard house. It was just at the end of a robust conversation with Trei Levick that Porthern realised Culloden wouldn't need to know his name to check the rota to see which rude fucker was on duty this night. Yanking his mana out of the stone, abruptly cutting off the spew of bile coming his way, he quickly went back outside to make amends. However, not only was the Portal Stone now switched off, but there was no sign of the .

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Weird," Porthern murmured before pulling his drenched coat around himself and sitting back down.

*

It was a little after the second bell that Preece finally finished cataloguing a pile of [Rare] Gauntlets that he knew he had done once before. However, short of admitting he hadn't performed the requested memory wipe, he could not easily argue the point. He was pretty sure his immediate supervisor, Thenon, had guessed he was still in full possession of his memories and was giving him a string of pointless tasks to elicit that admission. Well, this wasn't Preece's first rodeo of dealing with petty tyrants, and he was willing to play the long game. Also, unlike the rest of his peers, he didn't have a string of exciting and athletic social engagements awaiting him and was more than happy to rack up the overtime.

Stretching out his back, he stood and began to return to the staffroom for a quick brew before starting the next of his mundane tasks. He wasn't sure what had come over the Director lately, but the quality and quantity of refreshments had gone through the roof. Even at this time of night—or in the morning, he guessed—there would still be 10% concentration-enhancing green tea available.

He was just at the bottom of the stairway when one of the myriad shadows surrounding him solidified into a hooded figure and tapped him on the shoulder. "Fucking hell, Kelvin. You gave me a start!"

Kregg lowered his hood and glanced somewhat furtively about. "Isak, what are you doing here?"

"Late shift. Thenon has me doing all sorts of crappy tasks, and I could do with the cash. What's your excuse?"

Did the blush at that? Surely not, Preece thought. "I'm just making sure everything is as it should be. I was a little worried the storm might have shaken some of the tiles off the Exhibit Hall. But it turns out there was nothing to worry about. Please excuse me. I should check the top of the Chapel."

Preece frowned as the man pulled his hood back up and slipped away down the corridor. Only after his third sip of tea did the oddity of the man responsible for PR checking on roof slates make him frown.

*

Less than a bell later, unheard by anyone, one of the giant stained-glass windows in the Chapel of Rest exploded inwards under the relentless assault of the wind. The ensuing gale that crashed through the space upturned hundreds of books, sent sheaves of paper spiralling in a cyclone, and pushed closed the door to a confession booth left open by a recent, rapidly departing visitor.

Everyone living in Soar Museum went on about their business.

*

The sun was just settling in the sky when Grackle Nuroon passed the sleeping without really registering the man's presence. He was used to not being challenged when arriving to enter his domain, and if he noticed anything at all, it was that the silent, heavily wrapped-up figure showed him proper deference by not seeking to make idle chit-chat.

Levick was waiting for him, of course, and deference was the last thing that old bastard had on his mind. Not for the first time, Nuroon wondered why he had not summarily fired the man years before. Or, at the very least, burned him to a crisp on a funereal pyre.

"I warned you about that fucking door!" the squat man bellowed, barely waiting for Nuroon to take off his coat.

"I am sure you did, Trei. I'm sure you did. If only there was someone like, I don't know, an who could address such things. I imagine such a helpful soul would have access to any number of Skills perfectly suited for the maintenance and upkeep of aberrant doors and cracked windows. If he were past his Level 50 threshold, that would be even better. Now, where do you think we could find someone like that, do you think?"

"Fuck you, Grackle!"

"Was there anything else, ?"

"You need to tell that woman of yours to stop putting her fucking cantrips on maintenance issues. It took me longer to dispel You Shall Not Pass than it would have done to just fix a fucking broken lock."

"I have no idea of what you speak, Trei. But it sounds fascinating. I shall be certain to give it my full attention at some stage in the near future."

Levick had thrown a report at him as he'd left, and it was a good few hours before Nuroon deigned to glance at it.

"What on earth was Martha up to?" he murmured to himself when he'd finished reading it. It went without saying that senior staff did whatever they could not to wind up the . Casting a rather sticky spell on a door was almost calculated to raise his ire.

Deciding to take this up with her - he almost liked to make sure the shit rolled firmly downhill - Nuroon slid his chair back under his desk, stood and hurried along to the office.

When he got there, the door was unlocked, which didn't surprise him. However, the fact that she was not there when he pushed it open did.

But not as much as the cooling corpse of Harker lying, part liquified, on Culloden's floor. His eyes, no longer hidden behind their green spectacles, were wide open and pleading. The rest of his body . . . well, the state of it was horrific. For some reason, the Director thought he'd seen something like it before.

"Well," Nuroon said, stepping away and locking the door behind him as he left, "this might be a touch trickier to make go away."